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stood with his head lowered, his coat drenched with sweat. His flanks heaved in rhythm with his rapid breathing as he gasped for air. Sarah fell forward with her arms around Gray Fox’s lathered neck. She closed her eyes, her breaths coming as fast as his. Time stood still for horse and rider.

CHAPTER 3
The Friends
    SARAH REMAINED MOTIONLESS on Gray Fox as she waited for her strength to return. The horse was equally exhausted. He stood quietly, his sides rising and falling in quick succession. At some point Sarah heard the low drone of a car approaching from the rear. She sat up slowly and twisted in the saddle. It was Mr. DeWitt driving his red Blazer with Jack on the passenger side. When the vehicle came to a stop, Jack jumped out and hurried to her, his face grave.
    â€œSarah, are you all right?” Chandler DeWitt was right behind, looking equally worried. They saw she was pale and shaken, slumping limply in the saddle.
    â€œI guess so,” Sarah said. She had finally caught her breath, but felt drained. She looked down at the horse. “But I don’t know about Gray Fox. Is he okay?”
    Jack’s eyes quickly scanned Gray Fox’s legs for any obvious sign of injury. He bent to run a hand down the horse’s forelegs, pausing to feel the tendons and ankles.
    â€œHis legs seem fine,” he said, straightening, “but time will tell. Any swelling will come later.”
    â€œI couldn’t slow him down by circling—there wasn’t room. I was afraid he would step in one of the potholes, and a few times I felt a jerky stride.”
    â€œIt’s not an easy task to pull up a horse running at a flat out gallop,” Jack said. “‘Twas a fine bit of riding.”
    Gray Fox continued to stand quietly, still gasping for breath.
    â€œI was pulling as hard as I could, but it didn’t seem to make any difference,” Sarah said. “Then I remembered the pulley rein you taught us when Quarry was taking off with Paige on the cross-country course. It really worked.”
    â€œAh, the old pulley rein,” Mr. DeWitt said, reaching up to stroke Gray Fox’s neck. “It’s stopped many a fast running horse.”
    â€œâ€˜Tis lucky you remembered it,” Jack said.
    Their gazes shifted to a blue sedan turning into the farm road. As the car approached them, Sarah recognized the passenger, a girl who came regularly for riding lessons. The driver slowed as they got closer, and eying the lathered horse, she ran down her window.
    â€œIs everything okay?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” Mr. DeWitt said. “Gray Fox will be fine. But thanks for asking.” He smiled broadly. “Perhaps we’ll see you back at the barn.”
    After the car had driven away, Mr. DeWitt turned back to Sarah. “You are a fortunate young lady. It’s a stroke of luck that car didn’t start up the farm road ten minutes ago.” He was scowling as he turned to Jack. “Has Gray Fox ever pulled this stunt before?”
    â€œNot that I know of,” Jack replied. “Oh, he has a few evasions if he’s not ridden well, like running out of fences or even quitting right in front of a jump. But if he’s ridden properly, like he was today by Sarah, Gray Fox is a good jumper. He goes in a fat snaffle bit, which works well as long as he wears a martingale. ’Tis too bad it snapped when he reared, so he could do as he pleased.”
    Jack reached for the dangling martingale and felt where it had broken. “No wonder. The leather in this martingale is bone dry.” He looked at the horse, who was still breathing fast, and then back at Mr. DeWitt.
    â€œThis is a spooky side of Gray Fox I’ve not seen before. He’s usually quiet and a bit on the plodding side. Though not a pushbutton ride, Fox is a grand mount for beginners who aren’t ready to jump. But he’s a challenge to handy riders who are accustomed to riding horses